


Affairs of State

by stardropdream



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 04:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7786963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porthos sees Aramis in his Minister robes for the first time. (post series)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Affairs of State

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt, "Porthos seeing Aramis in his minister robes for the first time, after returning from the front"

“Porthos!” Aramis calls out from across the gardens as he watches General Porthos arrive on his horse, dropping down off it and offering the reins to the stablehand. It’s impossible that Porthos could have grown taller in his time away and yet he takes up so much space, his smile bright and his head held high. The armor is slightly dinged since the last time he saw him, heading off to the warfront. But that’s to be expected – and it only means that Porthos has survived, that he has been fighting. Aramis feels warm all over – relieved. 

Porthos spots him after the call and his grin widens, his eyes warming as Aramis approaches him – and then his gaze sweeps down over Aramis and his eyes take on a considerably darker color. Aramis walks quicker, feels his heart pattering up into his throat in a way that makes it resoundingly difficult to breathe. 

It is likely unbecoming of the Minister of France and the General to Her Majesty to behave this way and yet Aramis doesn’t care when he quite literally throws himself into Porthos’ arms, and Porthos is there to catch him, wrapping him up tight into his arms and squeezing. Aramis lets out a delirious little laugh and clings, burying his face into Porthos’ shoulder, not caring that the armor makes this hug anything but comfortable. It’s Porthos and that’s all the comfort he needs. He shivers when Porthos smoothes his hands over his back, tugs him in close so they’re pressed full-bodied against each other. 

“It’s so good to see you,” Porthos murmurs into his ear and Aramis shivers.

“You as well, my friend,” Aramis whispers back, overcome with the urge to kiss him right there – and knowing he can’t. He settles for prolonging the hug, lingering close and letting himself anchor against Porthos. His hand cups the back of Porthos’ neck, fingers sliding into his hair. He’ll kiss him later. “You’ve been missed.”

Porthos squeezes him and Aramis melts against him. 

“You look good,” Porthos says in a murmur of a distinctly different quality – not longing and relief, but something heated and secret. Something meant only for Aramis. 

He shivers. “And here I thought you’d make a joke I’d put on weight.” 

“I like the blue,” Porthos answers, but there’s laughter in his voice – and that heat still smolders, igniting Aramis’ gut. He squirms a little but still refuses to let go. This hug has gone on for an obscenely long amount of time, long enough that anyone watching would be questioning it. But it hardly matters. He needs this. He’s waited months for this. 

“It’s… rather ornate,” Aramis settles on, unsure how much he should preen, unsure how much he can fit into these robes and this role. It is worth it, to be here with Her Majesty and her son. It’s worth it. Of course it’s worth it. But he is followed, constantly, by the ghost of a man who was their father. 

“I like it,” Porthos says. And repeats, “You look good.”

“Good enough you want to strip me out of it?” Aramis guesses with a laugh, which Porthos answers with a grunt. Aramis leans up and whispers to his ear, his smile all teeth and promise, “Or perhaps you want me to keep it on while I fuck you?”

“Fuck,” Porthos grunts. 

Aramis finally draws back with a grin and tilts his head towards the palace. “My dear General, I believe we have affairs of state to discuss. Please follow me to my office, won’t you?”

Porthos hardly needs to be told twice.


End file.
